


A Moment Of Your Time

by moodyrebelmage



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:37:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyrebelmage/pseuds/moodyrebelmage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has an important question to ask, if he could only get Trevelyan to listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment Of Your Time

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not actually a part of Elodie Trevelyan's official canon, but it was in my head and had to come out. It is silly, and I am sorry.

"The Commander would like to see you, my lady."

Elodie spared a glance at her dust covered armor while the guard before her shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A stablehand collected her reins and led her mount away as she did her best to brush off the top layer of grime.

"Can it wait?" she asked. "I've been thinking about nothing but a bath for the past three days. I can see him this evening.

The guard cleared his throat, but wouldn't meet her eye. Someone was not going to get what they wanted, and he was clearly trying to assess whose disappointment intimidated him more. She could guess the answer to that.

"Fine," she said. Let him see her like this. Maybe if he thought it as repellent as she did, she would find herself sweating in the desert less.

Relieved, the guard bowed and darted off. As her companions left to enjoy a well-earned drink at the tavern, Elodie climbed the steps of Skyhold.

Cullen was fidgeting by his window when she found him.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. "It's a little early for everything to have fallen apart. I was gone for barely over a week."

It had been nearly two months since Corypheus's defeat, and Cullen had been in impressively high spirits since then. Now he pinched at the fingertips of his gloves, concern etching his face.

"Elodie!" he stammered. "H-how was your trip?"

"My... It was fine! Pretty uneventful, actually. But the remaining rifts there were closed, so that's something."

"Good." He turned toward the window and rubbed at his neck. "Good."

She sighed and began unbuckling her knapsack. If he was going to keep her standing around, she would at least relieve herself of some of her travel burdens.

"Cullen, did you need me for something, because I-"

"Yes. Please."

He turned back to her with the sigh of a commander utterly disappointed with himself, and came around the side of his desk. She knew this bashful, flustered demeanor well, but it had been many months since she had last seen it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been trying to think of a way to say this for... well, for a while. And then, after you left, it occurred to me that perhaps... perhaps I should write to your parents."

This elicited a bark of laughter from her, barely concealing the sudden tremor in her voice.

"Why would you-?" she sputtered. "That is... You didn't, though, right? You stopped and thought 'What would Elodie do? Probably not _ever_ write to her parents' and then you put the quill down?"

"Well... no. I sent it shortly after you left, actually."

He reached for her hand, but now she was pacing, calculating. One word was all it would take. One personal word, and the Trevelyans would descend upon Skyhold, and Elodie would be ten years old again, not a herald at all. Just a girl who never quite got the rules down before she was sent off to the Circle; a girl who never fit in the space she was given. A girl in need of constant critique. How long before they would get the letter? Perhaps Leliana's people could intercept it.

"I'm sorry," he said, but it sounded like a question. "I know you have a complicated relationship with them. I wasn't trying to put us in their hands, I just wanted this to be right. I've done it wrong, though, haven't I?" He was fidgeting again. "Of course, I have."

"What exactly did you say to them? They're going to take this as an invitation. Or an excuse. All that careful planning and pandering to make sure they were always just out of reach of the Inquisition, and now they'll want to _visit_."

"I-if you would just listen for a moment. We can sort out your parents later. Please, I... I would really like to ask you something."

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she strode to where he leaned against his desk and took his face in her hands. His expression softened.

"I can fix this," she said.

And she walked out the door.

If anyone could help her, Josephine could. If the letter had been out for over a week, there was little chance of retrieving it now; they had possibly already read it. Perhaps they had already left. More likely they would send word first, which meant she still had time on her side. She found the ambassador in her office.

"Josie!" she cried. "I need your help."

"Welcome home, Inquisitor! You... ah, you look like you could use a bit of refreshment after your travels."

"Believe me, I know. You haven't heard anything from the Trevelyans recently, have you?"

"Your relatives?"

"My parents."

"No, I," Josephine halted, flipping through memories of so many nobles, so many letters. "I can't say that I have ever heard from your parents, actually."

"I think they might be coming."

"Here?" She rose from her seat and picked up her note paper and a quill.

"Here, yes, here." Elodie shook her hands, flustered but unable to articulate why everyone else should share her concerns.

"We should host a dinner party for them. Something to mark the occasion? Of course we will honor your guests, the parents of the Herald will be well received."

"No, they're not my _guests._ I didn't invite them. You haven't received letters from them, but I have. They've been chomping at the bit to invade Skyhold since the ball at Halamshiral, but I've steadfastly ignored every one, because I knew that if they thought we had time to address them, they would take that as an opportunity to come here. _I_ didn't invite them. Cullen wrote to them while I was gone."

"Ah," Josie grinned, retaking her seat behind her desk. "In that case, may I be the first say 'congratulations'?"

" _Congratulations?_ " Elodie chuffed. "Josie, _please_. I don't want them here."

"My apologies, Inquisitor. I assumed that if the commander had written to your parents, it meant that he had..."

Her voice trailed off as if she expected her to follow where it was leading, but Elodie was much too riled to understand.

"He had what?"

"Well... Forgive me, Inquisitor, I should not have said anything."

That was enough to give her pause. He had what? He had... wanted to ask her a question. Oh, no. In the charged calm of those brief seconds, she saw her mistake.

"Maker's breath," she sighed.

She had just left him there. He had tried to take her hand, but she had panicked and walked out and obliterated whatever moment he had been trying to build. _Of course_ that was why he had written to her parents. _Of course_ he would do that, because that was how it was done, and 'how it was done' would have been Cullen's first instinct.

"Inquisitor?" Josie prodded.

"I'm sorry, I- I should go. We'll talk later."

The mountain air hit her in the face like a rebuke as she crossed the bridge back to the commander's office. No wonder he had looked so flustered, poor darling.

A tickling warmth spread down her limbs. She had heard the nobles chattering about them in the halls, musing about when a date might be set and what they would wear. To be sure, she had thought about it often, and had spent some time considering how she might ask him, but had thus far been unable to craft the moment he deserved. So she sat on it, dwelling on it in the minutes before sleep for weeks and eventually forgetting that it was even an option that he might ask her first.

She rapped lightly on his door, too abashed to walk in as she normally did. But there was no answer within. She crept in and found his office empty.

"Cullen?" she called up to his room. "Are you there, love?"

Still no answer.

The door to the north ramparts swung open and a guard stepped in.

"Heard you calling for the commander, my lady. He walked this way some minutes ago."

"Thank you," she said, and followed him out the door.

Was this a good sign or bad? Or maybe it was entirely neutral and she was reading too much into everything. But they knew these ramparts well; they had spent a good deal of time up there, chatting and cuddling and canoodling while the guards on duty snickered and scattered. If anyone had told her while she was in the Circle that one day old, grey battlements would be dear to her, she would have laughed. But dear they were.

Of course, the commander was the commander, and he could have any number of unsentimental reasons for pacing the battlements. Surely, he walked them every day and did not think of them quite as she did.

She cut through an old abandoned room, still not being put to efficient use, and opened the door to the north ramparts, where they had shared their first kiss.

He stood there again now, gazing down at the peaks and valleys below. If he sensed her he did not show it, but he looked peaceful at least, not agitated or angry. A chill breeze ruffled his hair.

She slowed her approach, now fidgeting in her turn.

"Cullen, I-" she stammered. "I'm so sorry. I panicked, I didn't think. I'm so afraid of them finding a way to push their influence onto us, and I just - It doesn't matter, this isn't about that. I'm sorry I didn't listen."

"As am I," he said, turning to her and leaning against the merlon. "I should not have done that without consulting you first. I knew you had a complicated relationship with them, and I should have respected that. I was just... nervous, I suppose."

"You haven't changed your mind?"

She struggled to sound confident, flirty, but in reality her heart was pounding so forcefully that she could hear little else. Silly, she knew. She had never known anyone so dependable.

He actually laughed at that. Pushing off from the merlon, he reached for her hand again, twining his fingers through hers and closing the space between them. Golden eyes and a subtle smirk held her gaze. It was one of the first things that had drawn her to him, the way he always _saw_ her.

"No," he whispered in that low growl he seemed to reserve for her. "In fact, I think this is better. Perhaps I could just ask my question now?"

And now it was her turn to laugh, because what was the point of this anymore? He could walk her to the chapel without another word, and they both knew how it would end. But still, she was blushing.

She nodded, afraid that if she spoke she would burst into a fit of anxiety giggles and ruin yet another moment, but he was giving her that look now, that almost radiant look of pride and admiration he always seemed to give her when she least deserved it, like when she was accidentally shattering bottles on his office floor, or giggling in the middle of a proposal.

Still holding her hand, he lowered himself to one knee before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the guards at the top of the stairs elbow the other and point.

"I've spent weeks figuring out how best to say this. I even sought Varric's advice, but he said 'romance wasn't his thing.' Cassandra told me to write a poem," he chuckled. "I hope you'll forgive me if I fail to find the right words to tell you just how proud I have been to have you at my side. And how desperately I would like for you to remain there forever. Elodie Trevelyan, would you please consent to be my wife?"

"Maker, yes!" she cried. "That was-"

Without warning, he shot up and took her face gently in both hands. She let out a muffled cry of surprise as his lips pressed to hers, and then she melted.

It was a full minute before she made the connection, standing there in the exact spot he had first kissed her, in the exact same way.

"This," she breathed, "is so much better."


End file.
